Brew-haha

I’m Art Kumbalek and man oh
manischewitz what a world, ain’a? Listen, right now in real time it’s Tuesday, April 1, for me. So I got to tell you that I just flew back in
from voting and boy-oh is my franchise tired, you bet, I kid you not.

I’m
so bushed from this electoral experience I can hardly raise a finger,
except for the middle one on my right hand, which I will raise to the
knobs I did not vote for if I learn tomorrow that they be the ones who
got the most votes. But naturally, I must fathom the possibility that
the meagerly financed Art Kumbalek Democracy Express 2008 For Any and
All Political Office was effective enough to secure the necessary tally
of write-in votes that would put me into one of the offices that popped
up on the ballot I just got back from voting on, say, “Art Kumbalek,
Milwaukee’s new independent county focking executive.”

Could
happen. It’s a case of faith versus political science here. And like on
that TV show “Lost,” right now in my “real” time, today, as I work
toward concocting an excuse for not being able to write an essay for
you’s this week, by the time you read my excuse it will be your “real” time, but it will be my future time, see? Your real time right now may be Thursday, April 3, but my real time
is two days ago. Yeah yeah, big focking deal, except you see I have
flash-forwarded ahead in time where I find myself at Miller Park for
the Brewers home-opening game. And the reason I’m at Miller
Park on the afternoon of April 4 is so I can ceremonially throw out the
first pitch on account of having been elected your new Milwaukee County
executive.

I know, this all sounds kind of complicated—I’m in the past
as you are in the future, my future is your present which is my past,
who’s on first, Tinker to Evers to Chance— blah-blah. All I know right
now is I can’t whip out an essay today because I don’t know about
tomorrow except that I’m supposed to be at Miller Park this coming
Friday for the ballgame, and I need to take some time to figure the
ramifications of the donnybrook of this conundrum. However, I am
reminded of a little story:

Back
sometime in the ’90s, President Bill Clinton attended a baseball game
at Camden Yards in Baltimore with First Lady Hillary Clinton. Before
the game began, a Secret Service man came up to him and whispered in
his ear.

The president suddenly picked up Hillary and heaved her out
onto the field. The Secret Service man came running up to Bill and
said, “Mr. President, sir, perhaps I had misspoken. I meant to say that it’s time to throw out the first pitch. That would be PITCH, Mr. President.”

Now I don’t exactly know if that story is true because the senator from New York
has yet to include that anecdote on the resume of her executive
experience. But I do know that the Hill is a baseball fan because she’s
said so in the past, so all I got to say to the former first lady here
during the first week of the 2008 Major League Baseball season is this:
“Hey lady, let’s play ball, ain’a?” what the fock, ’cause I’m Art
Kumbalek and I told you so.